Auld Lang Syne

All I remember is that her first husband, who was responsible for the wealth and the children, had perished in an automobile accident and her second husband died of cancer. She still controlled and was active in the company started by her first husband and she had helped finance several other companies.

The hour got late, and I suggested it was time for the driver to return me to the Beverly Hills Hotel. "I gave my driver the night off," she said, smiling. "You will have to spend the night here. I have a lovely guest suite that I'm sure you will enjoy. I'll be right back."

She left me on the deck, well-warmed by the fire. I finally noticed that the deck was shielded from the ocean breeze by glass panels in the railing. I was busy watching the lights of a large boat or small ship well off the shore when she returned with a grand entrance. She was wearing a nightgown that had clearly cost a fortune and was stunning. The picture in my head is somewhat clouded by the alcohol, time, and amazement. I recall that it was black, there was much lace, some transparent areas, the skirt was pleated, the waist tiny, and the bust both full and teasingly revealing. It also made a sensual swishing and crinkling sound that I cannot adequately describe.

My wife and I had not had sex for several years. I briefly considered my marital vows and concluded that, at my age, there was no harm that would result if I transgressed. I further rationalized that it was unlikely I would be able to perform.

Janet must have intuited those doubts when she said, "I'm not expecting to take up where we left off. That was long ago; we were different people, young and inexperienced. Just so you know, though, I've never forgotten our evening together and forever regretted not having an opportunity to continue what might have been a very sensual relationship. Kiss me goodnight, and I'll show you to the guest suite."

The goodnight kiss revived a lot of memories and feelings. I never did get to see the guest suite. We kissed on the deck for much longer than either of us planned, then she took me by the hand and led me to her bedroom, which was as seductive as she.

As we entered her bedroom, I noticed a small gas fireplace that was lit, an enormous canopy bed, very subtle lighting, and several paintings depicting couples in various sexual positions. Janet pushed me onto her bed, began removing my shoes, and announced that we had some unfinished business to attend to, bringing back the pictures in my head of that night on the beach.

She continued to undress me, undoing my belt and pulling down my trousers, removing my socks, bypassing my silk boxers with a comment that she would enjoy removing them later, then unbuttoning my shirt while kissing her way up my stomach and chest.

She pulled down the bedspread, suggested I get into the bed, and wiggled her hips as she slipped into the adjacent bathroom. She returned quickly, barely giving me enough time to revive my concern about my performance capabilities. "If you'd like to brush your teeth, I set out a new toothbrush and some toothpaste. I also set out a pill you may wish to take, presuming your heart is OK."

When I returned, having brushed my teeth and swallowed the pill, she was lying on the bed, her gown spread out, offering a seductive pose. She motioned me to lay beside her, which I did, staring up at the canopy, which featured a very erotic drawing.

"It must be fun to look at that every night as you fall asleep," I commented.

"It's better when I have company," she replied, "which is very rare."

"I do, however, have a rather large collection of sexual aids," she continued, "although none of them is a suitable substitute for a real man, particularly for the man I've longed for my entire adult life."

I was overwhelmed and intimidated by that sentiment, never having even suspected that this woman, still so beautiful, would have cared.

She rolled over me, wrapped her arms around me, and began feverishly kissing me. I was humbled when I realized she was also crying. I held her tightly, continued kissing her deeply and passionately, and let her cry. I thought she might even fall asleep.

Eventually, she whispered, "I want you to make love to me as we should have long ago. I don't care if it takes all night. I've dreamed of this moment for years. Just tell me what you want me to do."

I rolled her onto her side so we were face-to-face, continuing to kiss her. "What gives you the most pleasure?" I asked, something I've asked every woman to whom I've made love or just fucked.

"Just you," she replied. "Whatever pleases you."

She paused, then continued, "I've been fucked in every way possible. I've been fucked by two men at the same time; I've been fucked in the ass numerous times, that was what my second husband preferred; I've been fucked with a strapon, both by a woman and a man; I've fucked men with a strapon, too; I've been on top, underneath, in a swing, in a pool, in the snow, on a beach, in a plane, clothed, naked, and everywhere in between; I can deliver a blowjob with the best of them, including deepthroat, and I swallow. I've survived many gross experiences, enjoyed some, hated others, but I've only truly loved two men, and you are one of them."

I squeezed her as tightly as possible, whispering, "I'm sorry it took so long for you to tell me that. I was always in awe of you and never would have considered that you cared about me. That night on the beach, I thought I was just a convenience, easy to discard. I regret that I somehow misread you so badly. I'll blame that on my insecurities. There's no way I can make that up to you."

With that, I slid down the bed a bit, opened the top of her luxurious gown, and gently kissed each breast, then took one nipple in my mouth and very gently nursed it while my hand very lightly caressed her other nipple. I continued that for a long time, losing track of time and thinking she might have fallen asleep. When she moved slightly, I slid down further, pushed aside the gown's skirt, discovered that it was slit up the front, kissed the inside of each thigh, and gradually moved the kisses up.

I took my time, enjoying her until I finally could reach out with my tongue and lightly touch her clit, which caused her body to flinch, and she said, "Omigod, do that again." So, I did, very lightly.

Meanwhile, I slowly slid one finger inside her, remembering the time she led my finger to the proper location. She was much tighter than I would have expected. I sucked on my finger to dampen it, then re-inserted it. A bit later, I managed a second finger, then curled the two and began gently stroking the upper folds of her vagina, hoping I was in the right place. I was, and her body reacted.

We were both very comfortable and relaxed and realized there was no reason to hurry, so I continued the very light stroking while I returned the tip of my tongue to her clit, grazing it. I wanted to build her to orgasm very slowly. Her reactions were very subtle, which gave me confidence that I was doing what she needed, and I relaxed so I wouldn't hurry. I have no idea how long that continued, but eventually, I felt her body tighten, and her fingers began stroking my hair and face.

I must have been close to falling asleep when she said, "Faster now," and I responded to her request but slowly. Her legs came up to squeeze my head. I removed my fingers, then stuck my tongue inside as deep as I could, pushing in and out while my finger gently stroked her clit. Her hands were now holding my head by my ears, pulling me into her, and I moved my tongue to her clit. She thrashed and twisted on the bed, squeezing my head with her legs and pulling me firmly. I was shocked when her orgasm hit because of its violence. It felt like her entire body levitated off the bed; one of her knees hit the side of my face, her hands clamped around my head, and her legs kicked. I've been with my share of women, and I had never been with one who had that intense an orgasm or one that lasted so long.

Finally, her entire body went limp. I pulled away, exhausted myself, and slowly slid up alongside her. Her eyes were closed, and I wondered if she had passed out or gone to sleep, but then I saw the smile on her face and snuggled up against her, ready to go to sleep. She whispered, "Thank you."

I think I did sleep for a little. I woke when she moved on the bed, reached down, and stroked my flaccid cock. I doubted she could create an erection, but she was gentle, and the feeling was undemanding and pleasant. I was only half awake, enjoying all the senses. I wasn't even aware when she slid down and put her mouth around my cock, but her fingers on my testicles tickled, and I became aware of what was happening.

She had me fully engulfed in her mouth, and I could feel the head of my cock in the back of her throat, causing me to be concerned about her gagging or choking. It was a misplaced concern. She quickly demonstrated her skill, and I became rock-hard, much to my surprise and delight.

She pulled off my cock and said, "I owe you a blowjob," then took me deep in her throat again. I protested that I didn't want to finish that way, explaining that I was damn lucky to have gotten an erection and didn't want to waste it.

She pulled off again, tightly holding my cock, and said, "I want you to take me from behind. You can take my ass if you want. From behind is the way you get the deepest penetration."

"I'd rather do missionary," I responded, "so I can see your face and share your kisses."

"Can you hold off long enough to take me from behind for a few strokes? I love how that feels when a man gets deep inside me, and I know you will enjoy that, too. If you can hold back, you can pull out, flip me over, and do whatever you want."

"Do you have some lube? I asked. She opened a drawer in the nightstand and handed me a small bottle, then slid away from me, got up on her knees, pulled a couple of pillows beneath her chest, and lowered her back while pushing her ass up and pulling the nightgown out of the way. I squeezed some lube in my hand, rubbed it on my painfully erect cock, got on my knees behind her, and was surprised when I felt her hand grab me and position me at the correct entrance.

I slid in as slowly as possible, resisting the urge to pound her. When I was as deep as I could go, I tightened the muscles in my cock, which caused her to say, "do that again," so I did several more times. I was careful not to push in or pull back, which would undoubtedly have caused me to cum. I did reach underneath to stroke her clit, finding her finger already there. I just put my finger on top of hers while holding my cock deep inside her. When I felt her body tense, I pulled out, flipped her over, slid between her legs, pulled her legs up over my shoulders, and she guided me in.

Her hands grasped my ass and pulled, and she said, "fuck me, as hard and as fast as you can!"

I was lamenting that I was no longer eighteen, but my body ignored the message. I came as long and as much as I think I ever did. Somewhere in there, I felt her orgasm start, and she was still going when I had nothing left.

We just lay there, coupled together, enjoying the sensation. Eventually, she gently pushed me off, found the hand towel she had conveniently placed on the nightstand, slipped it between her legs, and headed to the bathroom. She soon returned with a warm washcloth and cleaned me up, kissing the head of my cock when she was done.

She slid into the bed, kissed me deeply, then put her back to me, and I pulled her in, her ass in my crotch and my hand draped over her and cupping a breast.

"I should have let you fuck me that night on the beach," she whispered.

"As I recall, I didn't bring any protection," I said, blowing in her ear.

"But I did," she replied, pushing her butt into my crotch.

"Probably a bad idea on a sandy beach," I retorted, "and it might have changed our lives in ways we can't imagine."

"OH, I can imagine them," she said. "Now, go to sleep holding me."

I promptly fell asleep and suspect she did, too.

Sunlight somewhere in the room woke me sometime later. I found myself on my back, and Janet had my cock in her mouth and her finger in my ass!

"I still owe you a blowjob," she mumbled. "Lay back and enjoy it."

I was pretty sure she'd never get me anywhere near erect and that there was nothing left to suck out of me, but it turned out, once again, that I underestimated her resolve. Her finger caressing my prostate no doubt aided her efforts. While I never got very hard, she succeeded far enough that I came deep in her throat, much to her delight, and lay there completely drained.

I was unsure what time it was, not really wanting to know, but I had a plane to catch. "Where are you going?" she asked. "Back to Denver," I replied. "What time's your flight?" "I'm not sure; late morning, I think. I need to look at my phone."

My sportscoat was still on the deck, somewhat damp, and my phone was in the pocket. I had a little more than two hours to get to LAX, through security, and onto the plane. Standing there in nothing but my boxer shorts, that seemed improbable, so I suggested I would call and see if I could move to a later flight.

"Just cancel the flight," she said. "My plane can take you home later."

"Your plane? You own a plane?"

"Yes, a rather nice jet, and I have two pilots who work for me."

"What else do you own?" I asked. "It's none of my business, but you've got my attention."

"Not much. Other than interests in several companies, an apartment in New York City, another in London, and a house in Vail."

"You own a house in Vail? Where? I own a condo in Vail."

"Just off the golf course," she replied, telling me it was worth several million.

"What do you do with it?" I inquired.

"Stay there when I want to ski; the kids and grandchildren occasionally join me, sometimes I spend a few days there during the summer, and I rent it out when I'm not there."

"Do you still ski?" I asked.

"Sure. How about you?"

"Not very much. I hurt my back a few years ago. I just had back surgery, and I'm hoping I can ski again this winter."

"Does your wife ski?" she asked.

"Nope. Used to, but not anymore."

"Then maybe we can ski together this winter. I'd enjoy that," she smiled.

I quietly wondered if she intended to ski. One night with her was one thing. I already felt a bit guilty because I had enjoyed it so much. A planned affair was beyond my comfort zone. Nonetheless, I responded, "that would be fun."

We shared her vast shower. When we were dressed, she suggested we go out for breakfast. I asked if there was a place close by where we could get some coffee. She led me to her massive kitchen with an elaborate espresso machine.

Coffee in hand, we exited through a side door into an enormous garage, which contained two Teslas, a Lincoln Navigator, and a Ford pickup truck. She chose one of the Teslas and drove me to my hotel, where we had a relaxed room-service breakfast. When we were done, she lay on the bed and playfully bounced. "Not a chance," I commented.

She drove over the hill to the Burbank airport, where her plane and crew were ready and waiting. I was impressed when one of the crew took her car into a hangar and plugged it in. She joined me on the flight to Denver, allowing us to share more of our life history, business challenges, hobbies and other interests, favorite vacation spots, the stories of our children and grandchildren, and some catch-up on the people from our high school graduating class.

Janet had tears in her eyes when we landed in Denver, and I had to say, "goodbye." She repeated the idea of skiing together, and I again acknowledged that it would be fun but didn't commit, realizing it was a bad idea. She also requested that I let her know the next time I planned to be in L.A. I found my car, escaped from the parking lot, returned to the FBO, and waited while her plane took off, suspecting she was probably watching me.

We've stayed in touch with occasional emails but have never gotten together again, although she's proposed it multiple times. I genuinely love my wife and wouldn't do anything that would hurt her, but I do sometimes dream about what life might have been like with the incredibly sensuous Janet.